


An End, A Beginning

by starlight_and_seafire



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Smut, episode IX speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21725095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_and_seafire/pseuds/starlight_and_seafire
Summary: In the moments before the last stand of the Resistance, Poe and Rey find themselves drawn to each other, even as they find that there’s still some things they can’t say quite yet.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Rey
Comments: 12
Kudos: 134





	An End, A Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I tagged this as Episode IX speculation just to be on the safe side, in case you're avoiding pretty much everything related to the upcoming movie. If you've seen the trailers/TV spots and the pictures that came out in the recent Entertainment Weekly (namely the images of Poe in the hangar rallying the troops) and seen how his scarf moves, then you're safe. In fact, there's pretty much no way this story could work in the timeline, because Poe just seems to have the top few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned the whole time, but I'm going to change that up for this story.

“This is insane!”

Poe whirls around, stares wide-eyed at the young Jedi ( _and he reminds himself that she’s shunned the term Jedi, at least for now, too uncertain, too unsure of her place in all this, though he — and everyone else — knows that the Force shines around her brighter than Tatooine’s binary suns)_ and scoffs. “My plan is insane? What about _your_ plan?”

Rey staggers to a halt beside him and squares her shoulders, fire beginning to kindle just beneath the surface. “We’re talking about your plan right now, don’t turn this around.”

“We’ve already talked about it,” he says, gesturing back down the hallway from where they had just come. An encrypted message had arrived from the unknown spy who always miraculously seemed to have knowledge of the inner workings of the First Order, giving the location of the current First Order base. More importantly, the spy had told them of an opening where the Resistance could launch a surprise attack to hopefully overwhelm the far more powerful First Order army. The Resistance’s tops leaders had just gathered in the Command Center, debating the merits of the spy’s intelligence and the chance to mount a fatal blow against the fascist regime.

Poe and Rey step apart from each other as the other people in that meeting pass by, and Poe nods at General Calrissian as the older man practically struts past, cane in hand, self-possessed swagger still as evident as ever. Snap walks by just after, head bowed toward Rose Tico in conversation, and gives a quick nod to Poe and asks, “20 minutes?”

“20 minutes,” Poe confirms, before the last of the Resistance leaders disappear down the hallway and around the corner, no doubt heading for the hangar where Poe will be briefing the rest of the Resistance forces. He faces back towards Rey, sees her shoulders still squared and spine straight. He can practically sense the ferocity of her emotions hidden just beneath the surface.

“This is our chance,” he says, stepping closer to try to convince her, to make her understand, to reassure her, hells, all of the above. “This may be our last chance. _Our last stand_. We have to do something and this? This is it. It feels right.”

There’s a spark in her eyes and suddenly it’s burning bright and she steps forward, a finger jabbing into his chest. “Don’t do anything stupid, Poe Dameron. Don’t be foolish. I know you, something’s going to happen and you’re going to wanna protect everyone else while forgetting about yourself, while forgetting about . . . and just — just, don’t.”

She’s out of breath when she finishes, finger still pressed to his chest, but he senses the fear just beneath all that fire. And he gets it, he really does. At the same time he’ll be up in the air, she’ll be headed down to the planet’s surface, and he doesn’t have to think too hard before his mind unhelpfully presents a number of different, horrible, _terrifying_ scenarios of when she inevitably confronts Kylo Ren.

He opens his mouth — and he doesn’t know whether it’s to reassure her that _it’ll be okay, of course it will_ , a reassurance he knows he can’t very well make during the war, or to tell her that he could handle himself. Hells, forget about him, he wants to make her promise to _come back, please come back,_ to ask her the same thing he wants to ask her every time she leaves base to run off into danger, the same thing he wants to ask her now, to give her a reason to come back to him, to —

And then she surges forward, closing those last few inches of space between them, desperately pressing her lips to his.

He responds instantaneously, his lips moving under hers, tongue already stroking along the seam of her lips to kiss her as deeply as he knows how. Then her hands clutch at his shoulders, fingers pressing hard into the muscles there, and he stumbles after her as she drags them backwards, a door opening and closing behind them in the space of a few seconds.

Rey smacks her hand against the locking mechanism and it lets out a soft ding before she’s crowding him against the wall. It’s clear that she doesn’t plan on stopping with just a few stolen kisses. 

He wishes he could take her somewhere else, somewhere nice, somewhere where he can lay her down and take his time with her until she knows nothing except pleasure and his name.

But the clock ticks, so the closet will have to do. Still, he asks, “Here?” as if he wouldn’t try to stop time itself to give her everything she wants.

She rolls her eyes at him, and he feels a wave of fondness rush over him, even as she declares, “Here. Now.” She pushes him even further into the wall, her body pressing forward to eliminate any space between the two of them.

She’s ferocious in her desire, lips nipping at his jaw, his neck, before returning to his lips. She quickly works the top few buttons of his shirt undone and slips her hand inside. He groans as he feels her hand, small but warm, brush against his own overheated skin, shivering as it skims past the rough metal of his necklace before it dips down to the space above his heart where his mother’s ring rests.

Then her hands are back in his hair, holding his lips to hers, tongue brushing against his own, the kiss messy but delicious. But still, it’s clearly not enough for her, as she grabs at his shoulders, at his hips and waist in her need to have him closer.

He spins them, and this time it’s Rey with her back pressed against the wall. She moans loudly, the sound echoing in the small room, as his lips find the sensitive patch of skin just beneath her ear. Her hips are rolling, finding his over and over again, and he presses them back into her even as his hand skims down her chest, thumb finding a nipple through the fabric.

Her hands drop to his belt and holster, quickly working them free before finding the button of his pants. He wants so desperately to take his time, almost as desperately as he wants her, but they have no time, there’s so little time they have left before they have to get to their ships and —

And her clever hands have pushed his pants down to his knees, underwear with them, and she’s already shoving her own pants down before he even realizes what’s happened.

She smirks at him before catching his lips up in a rough, needy kiss, all tongue and teeth as she grips his shoulders tighter.

There’s a part of him that wants to feel her legs around his waist, feel the weight of her in his arms, as he takes her, wants to feel her nails biting into his skin, wants to carry the reminder of her into battle with him.

But a reminder of their last fight is bandaged up on his arm, and there’s no way he can hold her for that long.

Instead, with his hands pressing at her hips, he turns her to face the wall and crowds into her from behind. With one hand, he turns her face to his for one more kiss, a delicious moan escaping from her throat, the sound enough to send a throb of heat racing through him, while his other hand dips below her waist, fingers eagerly sliding through her wetness, rubbing her clit for a long moment before dipping his fingers inside.

She groans again, nips at his lips even as she presses back against him. “I’m ready, Poe. Now, fuck me.”

He laughs, a deep, throaty sound. “Yes, ma’am,” he responds, even as he lines himself up with her and slides in smoothly.

This time they groan together.

He begins to move, quick, steady thrusts that has them both soon gasping. There’s no time to linger as much as he wants to, and she knows that too, one of her hands coming back to claw at his hips, trying to pull him closer, deeper. Her other hand reaches over her shoulder, dives into his hair, and he presses kisses down her neck to her shoulder, tries to nudge the fabric of her clothing out of the way with his nose in an attempt to get access to as much of her skin as he possibly can.

“I love you,” he murmurs between kisses, voice raspy with emotion. She gasps, a short, breathy sound and he can’t help but repeat the words. “I love you, sunshine. So, so much.”

His wounded arm holds her close, angled up so he can palm a breast, ignoring the twinge of pain as he strains to keep her as close as possible. His other hand strums at her clit, stirring circles even as he continues to thrust.

His climax is quickly approaching. He can feel the heat prickle all up and down his spine, coiling deep in his gut, but he needs to get her there first. He thrusts harder, bites a little at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, the way she likes it, before murmuring into her ear, “C’mon baby, come for me. You feel so good. Let me feel you. Let me make you feel good.”

“Poe,” she practically shouts, slapping the wall with the flat of her palm, using the leverage to press back against him, and then she’s there, her warm, wet walls fluttering around him, and she groans, low and deep in her chest, as she comes.

He moves his hand from her breast until it rests just over her heart, feels its rapid flutter under his palm, can practically feel her essence, warm and alive and _incredible_ , everything that makes Rey, _Rey_.

Lightening dances behind his eyes as he comes, his hips pressing into hers, desperate to be as close as possible, and he moans brokenly into her shoulder.

He feels like he’s just run a marathon. He feels like he can take on the whole First Order by himself. He feels like they need to get this war won so he can get back and do this again as soon as possible.

When he finally manages to lift his head off her shoulder, she’s looking at him, eyes still slightly glazed over from pleasure and some other undefinable emotion, though he knows that whatever it is, he feels it too. He knows time is running out, but there’s so much he needs to say to her.

Before he can speak, she turns, causing him to slip out of her, both of them groaning a little at the sudden absence, and then she’s wrapping her arms around him.

Then the alarms sound and a voice calls out through the speakers for everyone to gather in the hangar for their orders.

The final battle nears.

****

Rey buries her head in her safe space, the warm juncture of his neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent that’s distinctly Poe, wondering what, if anything, she can possibly say to him.

She’s not good at goodbyes. She doesn’t even want to begin to think that this is one.

Instead, he speaks first. “You’re the brightest thing in my life. I need you to come back.”

She sucks in a breath through her teeth, something warm coiling through her veins at his words, even as she thinks, _doesn’t he know that it’s him who is a light in the darkness?_

She’ll always return to him. She wants to tell him that. She wants to tell him so much.

But there’s a battle about to be waged, and she can’t bear to leave herself so vulnerable, not when she knows they’ll soon be facing so much death and destruction. Not when she knows that she’s about to go into a fight — the last fight — where it will likely come down to kill or be killed.

So instead she settles on saying, “You can’t get rid of me so easily,” her voice light and teasing, a sharp contradiction to the emotions boiling just beneath the surface and the blaring alarms that ring out overhead.

Poe doesn’t take the bait. Instead he cradles her cheeks in his hands, urging her face up until he can meet her eyes. He gazes at her plaintively, the sheer force of his love and affection almost overwhelming in that moment. “I’m serious, sunshine. I need you to come back,” and he swallows hard, throat bobbing with the force of his emotions. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

One of his hands moves from her cheek, dipping into the deep V of his shirt, the one she had unbuttoned, desperate to feel as much of him as she could, his skin and beating heart beneath her palm. She felt his necklace then too, the rough metal warmed up from his body heat, and in that moment she had distantly wondered if she could somehow use that chain to keep him tethered to her.

She places one of her hands atop his, stilling its descent beneath the fabric before it can reach its destination.

“Ask me after we win this thing,” she says, surging forward to place one last desperate kiss on his lips before striding out the door to head to the hangar.

She needs to give him a reason to come back too. 

***

After, _after_ , she throws herself into his arms — or maybe he throws himself into hers, or maybe it’s just that they’re both helplessly drawn to the other — and then they’re raining kisses down on the other’s cheeks and hair and lips as they celebrate being alive.

He presses a kiss to her lips, much too short for her liking, before stepping back and cupping her face in his hands, gazing at her with wonder and amazement written in every line of his face.

Then he smiles, soft and sweet, and says, “Sunshine, you came back.”

She returns that smile. “You did too,” she says, tugging him in close again by the lapels of his shirt. Hours later, even after the briefing in the hangar, even after the last, desperate battle against the First Order, even after all that, the top few buttons of his shirt, opened by her hands during those frantic moments in the closet, remain undone.

It’s easier to think of this, think of the bits and pieces they’ve left behind with each other, than to think of all that they’ve left behind on the battlefield.

He came back to her. She chooses to focus on that for now.

His eyes search hers before roving over her face as if trying to memorize each and every detail of it. He looks so, so serious in his search, even as the celebration continues on around them.

She’s waited a lifetime for a family. She’s waited a lifetime for a place to belong.

She doesn’t want to wait any longer.

She smooths her hands over the lapels of his shirt, her eyes following the path her thumbs make as they trace along the edges of the necklace that dips just beneath the fabric.

Her eyes meet his, a smile, tentative with hope, pulling at her lips. “I think there was something you wanted to ask me?”


End file.
